Corrupted
by Piro-chan
Summary: "Your saved data has been corrupted. Return to the main menu and select 'new game'." A Missingno. fanfiction Set in the Pokemon Special manga verse. FULL SUMMARY INSIDE
1. Anxiety

**Full Summary:**

Your saved data has been corrupted. Return to the main menu and select 'new game'.

When both Red and Green receive strange messages requesting their presence at the Pokemon League by their former enemy, Lance of the Elite Four, they begin to realize that their home region of Kanto may be in danger of being… corrupted. A Missingno. Fic.

**About this Fanfiction: **

Series: Pokemon (game and Pokemon Special manga verse)

Pairings: None (as of yet – may contain eventual RedxGreen "Originalshipping")

Setting: Kanto (one year after the Pokemon Emerald arc of Pokemon Special)

_**MY COVER ART FOR THIS FANFICTION: .com/art/Corrupted-175512347**_

**Corrupted**

**Chapter 1 - Anxiety**

Running. He was running, although to where he didn't know. Thick bushes, shrubs and tall grasses scraped at his exposed skin and tore new holes in his already ruined jeans as he proceeded. Slowing his pace slightly in order to clamber onto a small, rocky plateau jetting up through the undergrowth, he first steadied himself and then began to take deep, voracious breaths; trying frantically to calm his pounding heart as he craned his neck in order to see above some of the tinier trees. Continuing to pant heavily as he skimmed his surroundings from the elevated vantage point, his heart leapt when his eyes roved over what he believed to be a roof – a building! The rusted, red paneling beckoned to him, and he was sure that he _must_ make his way to this building, although he did not know why. Sparing a tender glance down at a mess of machinery cradled in his arms, he spoke softly:

"We're almost there, just hold on a little longer."

With that, he was off again, not bothering to climb back down the rugged mound on which he stood. Instead, he simply jumped, feeling his dirty sneakers make contact with the ground below and, kicking up a storm of russet-coloured dust behind him, he sprinted off in the direction of the old, red sanctuary, still holding the jumble of mechanical parts protectively in his arms.

As he ran, the vegetation thankfully became less and less dense; sparing him further lacerations to his already marred skin and clothing. The trees thinned and the bushes became smaller and farther apart until a stretching field of powdery sand, not unlike the rocky plateau in colour, lay before him, small tufts of off-green grass the only contrast to the tan desert. Except of course, his eyes snapped suddenly to the left as they caught a flash of red, the building.

It was right there – right in front of him, peaking out from behind an immense, stony hill just a little more than a few hundred feet away.

Letting out an excited whoop, which cracked as it escaped his throat due to exhaustion mixed with dehydration, he increased his pace. One hundred feet away, seventy-five feet away, fifty feet away – he was almost there when something emerging from the dust to his right caught his eye.

Forgetting his mission for the moment, his run slowed to a jog and he eventually came to a complete stop, turning to stare open-mouthed at the form of an enormous Rhydon materializing from underneath a great mass of sand – dust flying into the atmosphere around it as it shook its incredibly large head free of the offending grains. It turned its huge, armored body to stare directly at him, its eyes completely expressionless.

He did not know what frightened him more, the _size_ of the massive Rhydon or the fact that the beast betrayed absolutely no emotion. The pile of scrap-metal shuddered in his arms, as if sensing the ominous presence of the dual-type Pokemon.

It was standing stalk still, it's lackluster, red eyes half lidded as it continued to stare. Stretched out behind the monster was the vast hill that began on one end of the sandy desert and seemed to end near the red building.

The building! He snapped back to attention and made to resume walking, but something in those blood-red eyes caused him to quiver; as if turning his back on those eyes was not the smartest of ideas. Quite suddenly from somewhere within one of the rare patches of dying grass growing against the base of the stony hill, came a loud, earsplitting cry – the likes of which did not sound as if any living creature could produce, as it was almost like the beeping of a machine, and seconds later a Kangaskhan trampled its way out of the brush and onto the reddish sand to stand directly beside the Rhydon, which did not so much as glance at the desert's new occupant. Instead, the large, red-eyed Pokemon continued to stare unblinkingly - directly in his direction.

While the offending Kangaskahn was relatively average in size, unlike the colossal Rhydon next to it, it was certainly far from ordinary. It's cold, black, piercing eyes bore into his flesh, and he could feel an air of malevolence radiating out from under its bronze hide. The heap of metal in his arms gave another jerk and let out a tiny squeak, supposedly in discomfort or fear. This creature was completely different from any Pokemon he'd ever seen – his perception of the Kangaskhan species being motherly and protective in nature was shattered as he took a closer look at the Pokemon and realized that there was no infant hidden within the warmth of its large pouch.

"Come with us."

For one brief moment, his heart stopped and his blood turned to ice in his veins. The gigantic Rhydon had opened its dagger-filled mouth and spoken – in plain English – though the creature's eyes never lost their blankness and it remained as still as a post.

Immediately, he began to spin around on the spot, searching for anyone else – a human perhaps - that could have addressed him in place of the steely-grey goliath in front of him. Finding himself to be quite alone, save for the broken machinery in his arms, and the two eerie creatures a few yards away, he swallowed a lump of fear in his throat and turned back around to face the pair once more.

"M-me?" He sounded rather pathetic, the question escaping his lips as a squeak.

The Rhydon opened its jagged mouth and spoke again, however, this time, his attention traveled to the Kangaskhan which, despite remaining silent, emanated an air of authority and importance as it twisted its jaws into a grizzly smile; almost as if the bronze-coloured Pokemon was the face to Rhydon's voice – the expression and emotion that would normally accompany a spoken phrase.

"Come with us if you wish to prove that you are worthy."

The Rhydon's chillingly monotonous voice was coupled with an overly theatrical and daunting look from the Kangaskhan. He might have found their actions to be comical if stares from the two sets of intimidating coal-black and depthless blood-red eyes hadn't caused his entire body to shiver.

"Don't do it!"

The sudden squawk that resounded from his arms nearly made him drop the fragile bundle of metal that he had unconsciously been clutching very tightly to his chest. Astonished, he glanced down at the tiny, broken robot that had perhaps once resembled a Pidgy, but was now too mangled to tell.

"You're supposed to be resting." He said, regaining a little of his composure.

The Pidgybot gazed unfocusedly up at him, yet its voice was urgent.

"You can_ not _go with them." The robot said sternly, not indicating it had even heard him speak.

"Why not?" He demanded, fear beginning to creep into his tone, "What's wrong?"

The robot merely stared back at him with glassy eyes; soft clicks issuing from parts if its mechanical interior.

"Hey! _Hey_!" He yelled, shaking the broken bird.

It did not respond.

"Come." The Rhydon instructed once more and the Kangaskhan motioned with its head as if to say, 'follow'.

Curiosity eventually won out over his fear. Gritting his teeth together forcefully, he murmured a quick apology to the broken Pidgybot in his arms, earning small, ghastly clicks in response and, shuddering, trudged after the two Pokemon through the sand, his original intention of seeking shelter in the rusted, red-roofed building forgotten.

He had expected the two strange Pokemon to lead him back into the hazardous brush, or far into the scorching desert – perhaps even motion for him to follow them into the treacherous looking lake in the distance. Instead, rather anti-climactically he thought, they walked less than thirty steps when the Kangaskhan paused directly in front of the rocky wall extending across the distance of the desert and held its arm out to stop its human tag-along.

He grunted and shot a slightly reproachful look at the Kangaskhan before cautiously backing away from the Pokemon's offending limb.

"We are here." Came Rhydon's cold, emotionless voice as Kangaskhan gestured meaningfully toward the stone expanse before them.

"Where's here?" He asked slowly, not entirely sure he was going to like the answer.

He felt completely vulnerable. Absently fingering his belt where there was usually a set of familiar Pokeballs, he felt nothing but rough fabric. Feeling rather defenseless and alone, he thought morosely of his mechanical companion, appalling noises still resounding from its parts. Where were his Pokemon anyway? Were they at the building? The red-roofed building? How he wished he could have just ignored the two terrifying Pokemon and carried on towards his original destination.

"This is…" Rhydon spoke interrupting his frenzied thoughts.

Looking up, he could see an eerie smile on Kangaskhan's menacing face, and if he hadn't had doubts about the two Pokemon before, he certainly did now.

Rhydon opened its wide mouth to finish speaking, and when it did, he was surprised to note that there was emotion – albeit only a small amount – in Rhydon's last word. He could be mistaken, but he thought he detected a hint of… reverence.

"Paradise."

He barely had time to register what was happening as Kangaskhan slammed its fist into the solid wall of rock, sending shards of sandstone everywhere. Coughing and spluttering, he peered through the dust and squinted eyes to see an oppressive, black fog appearing from in between cracks in the stone that Kangaskhan had created with its bare paw. He gasped as the fog became thicker and thicker, breaking away pieces of the wall as it engulfed everything in its path.

Quite suddenly, there was a whirling motion and the fog began to spiral inwards towards the now gaping cavern, ripping up small shrubs, picking up dusty sand and swallowing them whole like an angry tornado.

He tried desperately to grab onto something – anything, but his vision was horribly limited in the flying sand, and all the anchoring plants or rocks that he grabbed a hold of were pulled into the ever widening abyss. Without anything left to grab onto, he, himself, was pulled towards the cavern, digging his nails into the sand in desperation as he felt the darkness begin to swallow him.

Then there was a peculiar flash of white, lined with jumbled numbers and pictures, as if a two year old had tried to jam two dissimilar puzzle pieces together. The images swirled around his head, making him feel quite sick and then, from the distance, he heard the same, ear-splitting cry – the cry of a cold, sterile machine that the Kangaskhan had emitted earlier before the rush of images stopped and he was once again shrouded in blackness. A monotonous voice carried through the silence.

"You do not know where she is. You are not worthy."

OoO

"'_Yes, the Pewter City Museum of Science is beyond worthy of receiving a large portion of our fossil, sphere and coal collections as compensation for their amazing effort in helping our own Sinnoh researchers chart an underground pathway through the region!'"_

Red awoke with a start. The clock-radio on the bedside table next to him blared irritatingly as he groaned and rolled over onto his stomach. His body was sore and ridged, as if he had been tensing his muscles in his sleep. Had he been dreaming? Why had Green programmed the clock's alarm to be so loud?

"'_This colossal feat could not have been accomplished without the men and women of the Pewter Museum, and I feel an immense joy in knowing that our research team is not only paying them for their time and effort, but restoring some stability to their organization.' _

_A very excited Professor Berlitz told our Kanto Broadcasting Corporation correspondent when asked about the Pewter City Museum of Science's grand re-opening." _

Why did he think his dream had had something to do with the Fuchsia City Safari Zone?

He soon gave up on trying to remember the contents of his dream, as he was sure it had been an unpleasant one, and he sank deeper into the covers of his tiny fold-out bed and began to listen absently to the radio.

"_As many of our listeners will remember, eight years ago this coming January, the Pewter Museum of Science was the victim of a major theft involving the disappearance of two very important pieces. The well-preserved skeletal remains of both a Kabutops and an Aerodactyl, pre-historic Pokemon, were taken from the museum by means of forced entry. The museum suffered upwards of thirty-thousand dollars worth in damages as some of the other exhibits were harmed in the incident, as well as losing two of their most rare and popular pieces. With a large repair debt to pay and not much revenue being made because of the absence of their two most admired exhibits, the Pewter Museum was in financial trouble for years and eventually had to be closed down for an extended length of time when funding was at an all time low. While the two missing fossils were never found, police believe it to have been the work of Kanto's feared terrorist organization, Team Rocket, however, as the radical group is extremely allusive, often stepping in and out of the public spotlight, it makes it very difficult for police to track the organizations movements or bring its members to justice. Although it seems as though a ray of sunshine has shone through for the Pewter Museum at long last - the Oreburgh Mining Museum's 'Underground Pathway' Project has undoubtedly turned things around for both the Kanto Museum as well as its workers and, now, with sufficient funds and new pieces to display, the Pewter Museum will be re-opening to the public one week from today on September the fifth."_

"Well, what'daya know about that?" Red mumbled into his pillow.

"_When approached on the subject, Pewter City Gym Leader, Brock, had this to say:"_

Red perked up instantly at the mention of his old friend's name, and was now listening intently.

"'_I'm flattered to have been chosen to cut the ribbon on opening day. I have a lot of good memories going to that museum as a kid, and I was crushed when I heard that it had closed down all those years ago – but this issue goes beyond my personal feelings. I was under a lot of pressure as a gym leader back in those days because of my obligation to this town and the welfare of its people – when the museum closed down, a major drop in tourism to our city hit our local economy hard. Through hosting many additional fighting tournaments at the gym, we were able to get some tourist interest back, but with the re-opening of the Museum of Science, I'm confident that Pewter City will regain a strong economic independence. 'Hope to see you all there at the grand re-opening!'"_

"Wow. I had no idea that Brock was under so much stress." Red switched positions and came to rest with his elbows propping him up; his face cupped in his hands."

"_We here at the KBC hope you've enjoyed today's segment on the Pewter City Museum of Science. To purchase tickets for the grand re-opening, contact our box office at (881) 362-7836, extension 308. That number again is (881) 362-7836, extension 308. That's it for this hour. Thank you for listening. Stay tuned, your local news is ne—"_

"Red!" The sound of Green's annoyed voice from the hallway drowned out the radio, "Get your lazy ass out of bed! You do want to _eat_ before we have to go see Coppertop, don't you?"

Red sniggered to himself as he rolled out of bed, switched the clock-radio off just as he heard DJ Lily begin to play an intermission tune before the news, and, still dressed in his plaid, flannel pyjamas, sauntered out the door and down the narrow hallway towards the kitchen.

"Is that fold-out bed alright?" Green asked, looking up from his toast as Red entered the tiny kitchen and parked himself in a high, island chair across the counter from his companion. Red supposed that this was Green's way of asking 'how was your sleep', seeing as he had been asking Red the same question every morning for five days, ever since Red had arrived to stay at Green's loft apartment above the Viridian City Gym.

"It's fine." Red replied absentmindedly, scanning the small kitchenette for anything remotely resembling breakfast food. He was starving.

"I could make up the couch for you." Green said, in much the same way as he had for the past five mornings and, catching sight of Red's eyes darting around the room and droplets of drool starting to pool at the side of his mouth, he added, "I just ate the last of the bread, but there's cereal in the cupboard and there are some scrambled eggs in the frying pan." He elegantly plucked a few stray toast crumbs from his simple, white pyjama shirt and took a sip from his steaming mug of tea.

"Thanks."

Red leapt up to the stove only to find a dubious mess of unappetizing, grey, rubbery looking eggs waiting for him in a stone-cold, cast-iron frying pan. Red was definitely not what you would call a picky eater, but he wondered for a moment if Green hadn't just grabbed some expired, leftover eggs from the fridge and thrown them into a frying pan in an attempt to appear as if he'd actually bothered to prepare breakfast. He was about to tell Green off for the slimy abomination that he had called 'scrambled eggs', when Red realized that he couldn't really talk – he was not the most skilled cook himself. In fact, he recalled an incident in which he'd accidentally given Pika food poisoning while traveling, and yet Red had managed to shovel the failed attempt at ramen down without too many ill effects. He guessed that stomaching your own cooking was easier to do than enduring someone else's.

"I think I'll have some cereal." Red announced, trying hard not to make a face as he crossed the cramped kitchen to the pantry and selected a slightly dusty box of cornflakes.

Thankfully, the sealed bag inside the cardboard box had not been opened and the cereal inside was relatively fresh. Reclaiming his seat next to the tall, kitchen island, he reached for the nearly empty milk carton in front of him and dumped the contents onto his cornflakes.

"Wha' time do we 'alf to be 'dere, again?" Red asked as he began scarfing down his cereal at a break-neck pace, bits of chewed flakes splattering over the table in front of him as he spoke.

Green grabbed a paper-napkin from a rack to his right and began to wipe his counter-top clean of mangled cornflake chunks and Red's saliva.

"_Without_ splattering food all over my face please." Green's tone was sardonic; his mouth curved into a half frown.

"Sorry." Red swallowed the remainder of the food in his mouth and began to chew sheepishly under the scrutinizing glare of his host.

"_Ginger_ told us to meet him at the League's front gate at ten o'clock, so we'll have to be out of here by no later than nine." Greens mood had turned foul at the mention of their morning appointment with the leader of the Elite Four, Lance.

Because of Green's hatred of the dragon tamer, Red had become accustomed to Green's never-ending flow of insults and nicknames designed especially for Lance. 'Coppertop', 'Ginger', 'Freckles'… Red could go on.

Green's immense dislike for Lance was not unfounded, however. Red himself was far from being on good terms with the dragon tamer and the rest of the Elite Four after being lured to their mountain base and maliciously encased in ice upon declining their invitation to join them. Red's wrist gave a pang and he nearly dropped his spoon as he recalled the frozen shackles. But no matter what had happened in the past, Red was determined for this meeting to go smoothly.

Lance, much to Red's surprise, had contacted him via messenger Dragonite just a little over two weeks ago and formally requested his and Green's presence at the League. Intrigued, Red immediately made arrangements to stay with Green – who had received a similar letter – until the agreed-upon date for the sake of convenience.

The room had descended into an awkward silence. Green swallowed one final gulp of tea before setting his mug down on the island counter a little harder than was necessary.

"We should get going soon." Green stood up, placed his dishes in the sink and, with his usual grace and style, swept quietly from the room.

Red was left staring at his half eaten cereal. The unasked question that had hung between the two Pokedex owners for nearly a week forcefully pressed itself to the front of Red's mind.

'What does he want?'

OoO

Twenty minutes later saw the pair dressed and climbing down the tight fire escape staircase that Green used as a makeshift entrance to his apartment.

This visit had been the first time that Red had ever seen the Viridian Gym Leader's flat – he had to admit, he'd been expecting something slightly more glamorous. The tiny loft was composed of one small bedroom, an even smaller office (where Red himself had been staying), a miniscule bathroom, a den and a very modest kitchenette. When Red had asked Green about his living situation, the taller boy had merely shrugged and replied that he didn't need anything extravagant, and that he had easy access to the gym this way.

Red was both shocked and impressed. Green, the spoiled grandson of the famous Professor Oak, content with a small, minimalist loft apartment, over top of a gym no less.

Red supposed that over the years, Green's training with Chuck, his desire to make a name for himself separate from his grandfather's and his many journeys had helped him to mature and grow. Red hoped that he, himself, had acquired some measure of maturity through his own travels. Indeed, if it was any indication of personal success, Green, who had always taunted and outshone Red during their childhood, had come to respect and trust him. A light, fluttering feeling manifested itself in his chest at the thought of how much he and his ex-rival's relationship had changed over the years, and Red couldn't help but smile.

"What are you grinning about, moron?" Green asked as the two descended the last step and touched down on the damp lawn of the gym.

"Oh, just the great weather!" Red laughed and scratched at the back of his head nervously.

Green arched an eyebrow.

"Yeah," He said, tugging on the collar of his jacket and motioning to the misty rain all around them, "great."

Red's face flushed crimson.

"We-well, I happen to like the rain." He spluttered defensively.

Damn, that had been embarrassing. Stupid Green and his powers of observation. Why had he not remembered the miserable weather they had been having? It was only the end of August and nearly all of Kanto was experiencing weather that would have been better suited for mid October.

"Whatever," Green grumbled irritably, letting Red's moment of idiocy slide, "even if you're crazy enough to like this disgusting, drizzly… _shit_," he punctuated the word, betraying how uncharacteristically flustered he really was, "We're about to have to endure Ho-oh _knows_ how long with that Carrot-haired asshole."

Green kicked the pavement in frustration and red figured it was best not to say anything and to just follow the disgruntled Viridian trainer's lead. But as Red made to follow Green away from the gym and into the mist, Red caught sight of one of the two large Rhydon statues that Giovanni had placed on either side of the gym's rustic double-doors. Red's crimson eyes locked onto the Rhydon's blank, stony ones and he immediately felt sick, though he wasn't sure why.

"Get a _move on_!" Green's voice snarled through the rain, which had become much stronger without Red noticing. Fat droplets now striking the pavement as he tore himself away from the Rhydon's gaze and sprinted off after Green.

"Sorry!"

"_Don't _test me today, Red. Just don't." Green pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut tightly as he and Red fell into stride.

Red did feel bad for causing his usually calm and collected friend so much grief, but he couldn't seem to stop the words that were already escaping his mouth.

"You know, I think he's changed – Lance, I mean."

Red felt a vice-like grip clamp down on his shoulder and spin him around to face an irate Green.

"How…" Green started, trying very hard to retain his composure, his tone low and dangerous, "can _you_ of all people _possibly_ say that?" He spat the last words rather harshly.

"I can say it," Red spoke calmly as he removed Green's hand, "because I've seen evidence."

Green laughed sarcastically before turning serious once more.

"Red, he tried to _murder_ you –"

"And since then," Red interjected, "him and the rest of the Elite Four have become a very reputable organization that have dedicated themselves to _public safety_."

"A front. Simple as that." Green said dismissively, pinching his nose again in irritation and continuing to walk in the direction of the League's entrance.

"You don't know that, Green." Red sighed exasperatedly as he started after his friend, his sneakers sending small waves of rainwater up his pant-legs as his feet collided with the pavement.

"You really need to learn not to be so trusting. People like that _ginger_ crave power, and assuming a seemingly charitable role has earned him a great deal of status – status he could easily use for his own means."

"Green, I'm not saying I like the guy, but he's grown on a lot of people since—"

"You know what else grows on people? Cancer."

"Oh, ha-ha." Red frowned at the uncharacteristic petulance Green was doling out.

"When we get there, I guarantee you that he'll still be the same ginger bastard he was six years ag—ugh!"

Green was nearly knocked off his feet as he walked straight into a slightly hunched, balding man who looked as though he were in his early sixties. The two collided with such force that the elderly man's umbrella was thrown high into the air and landed with a metallic clatter several feet away. A portable coffee-mug the man had been holding fell to the ground, and it's dark contents spewed out onto the sidewalk, blending quickly with the rainwater before being washed away.

"You little punk! Just _look_ what you've done to my coffee!" The man wailed melodramatically.

Green, already having been pushed to his limit that morning, could not take anymore. He _exploded._

"What _I've_ done?" He yelled incredulously, "It wouldn't have happened if you'd watched where you were going, you senile old asswipe!"

"Green…" Red muttered warningly, but the man, now over the initial shock of being verbally abused, was not about to leave the argument there.

"You snot-nosed brat!" He had reclaimed his umbrella from the soaking ground and was now brandishing it threateningly at Green, "Didn't your mother ever teach you to resp—"

"Respect my elders, yeah, yeah." Green's voice was bored now; he was more tired than he was angry, "Really, old man. How much more cliché can you get?"

Red was concerned. Green rarely lost his temper to this extent, and he felt rather sorry for the innocent elderly citizen who had just so happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. He just hoped to Ho-Oh that Green would be a little calmer and significantly more polite when dealing with Lance – although, that might be asking for too much.

"Yo-you!" The man stammered. He looked quite at a loss for words.

"Green, c'mon. Let's just go." Red tried gently, "We'll be late."

Green gave a tiny snort, turned on the spot and walked swiftly past Red. Throwing the old man an apologetic look, Red hastened after his frazzled friend, leaving the elderly man to collect the pieces of his traveling mug from the rain-slicked ground.

It didn't take the two long to reach the exceedingly extravagant and beautifully rugged front gardens of the Pokemon League. Even in the pouring rain, the collective imagery of lustrous ponds, the well crafted, goldenrod cobblestone, rocky ledges and tall, sweet, green grass was a sight to behold. Red marveled in the garden's natural beauty – admiring how all the plant-life was overgrown, but tastefully so; the garden's aesthetic effect invoked an air of mystery and nostalgia, as if the objective of the lusciously overrun pathway was to remind challengers of the journey that had brought them to this place – to remind them not only of the numerous dark forests, rocky mountains and choppy seas they had overcome, but to remind them also that they had grown from their experiences, much like the long, arching grass.

Even Green, Red noticed, had lost his annoyed grimace and had adopted an expression similar to his own – a kind of wistful reminiscence.

The two stood there for quite sometime, neither really realizing that their pace had slowed to a stop; both trainers lost in memories. It was only when a wild male Nidoran scurried out of the grass to the left of them, ran up the cobbled path and darted into a nearby bush that the two boys were snapped out of their revery. Red blinked slowly and turned to face Green, who looked slightly embarrassed, however, when he spoke, his voice was cool.

"Shall we continue?"

Red nodded mutely, and the two continued to wander slowly through the garden towards the front entrance.

When at last they had reached the end of the trail, Green glanced at his watch, which read 'one minute past ten' and said, in what Red assumed was meant to be an annoyed voice:

"He's late." The intended harshness of the statement was lost as Green scanned his surroundings again, a far-off expression that was not befitting of the Viridian Leader plastered across his face.

Red didn't blame him, though. He, too, was still feeling the effects of the hauntingly beautiful garden from which they had just emerged.

"Give him some time… It's only one minute past ten." He hadn't meant to whisper, but the statement escaped his lips as a quiet breath, the sound of the rain almost completely drowning him out.

The pair didn't have to wait long. Red's heart skipped a beat as the sliding, glass doors of the League's front entrance slid smoothly open to reveal a stalky figure. He was dressed entirely in dark clothing, with a long, billowing cape strapped to his back, the colour of which exactly matched the fiery-red hair protruding sharply from his scalp. His eyes, set high on his thin, angular face, gleamed a dangerous yellow through the mist.

Red was aware of a lump building in his throat. The scuffle with the feisty old man in Viridian and the alluring mystique of the League's garden had temporarily pushed the anxiety of his and Green's meeting with Lance from his mind but, now, with his former enemy staring him straight in the face, Red would be lying if he said he wasn't nervous.

Beside him, Red could feel Green stiffening as well.

This was it. The moment of truth. Just what exactly did Lance want with them?

"Ah, Green, Red." Lance smiled ominously, displaying a mouthful of slightly pointed teeth. "How nice of you to come."

**_To Be Continued. _**


	2. Departure

**A.N. **

Whew, this one is significantly longer than the first chapter, and boy did I have trouble writing it. My computer kept freezing, deleting bits of text and even corrupted (no pun intended) the entire document! Anyway, I hope you guys like it, and I hope it was worth the trouble.

And a very special thanks to my anonymous reviewer, **Dice**, who always leaves me the most thoughtful and detailed reviews. This one's for you!

**Corrupted**

**Chapter 2 – Departure**

"Ah, Green, Red." Lance smiled ominously, displaying a mouthful of slightly pointed teeth. "How nice of you to come."

Red had not realized how utterly drenched and frozen he was until that very moment. The rain was coming down harder than ever now, droplets pelting him harshly as they made their way towards the goldenrod cobblestones that lined the ground below. He continued to stare, transfixed, into the dragon master's piercing eyes and, as he did so, Red's body temperature dropped lower and lower. Lance – ice – frozen. Had it been his imagination, or had his wrist suddenly started to ache? Frost – shackles – trapped forever.

Red shivered – he didn't think he could bear it for another second. In his moment of panicked disorientation, Red completely forgot his resolution to be polite and to leave past events behind him, and nearly demanded of Lance, rather tactlessly, an answer as to why he and Green had been summoned.

Green had beaten him to the punch.

"What do you want from us?" The Viridian Leader's eyes flashed suspiciously.

Lance smirked and gave a little chuckle.

"I can see that you're in no mood for idle chit-chat. That's excellent-" With a swift flick of his wrist, Lance deftly repositioned his cloak and gracefully motioned to the set of sliding glass doors that lead into the League's reception room, "neither am I."

The two younger trainers did not move. Red shot Green a sidelong glance, and he could tell that they were both thinking the same thing. Once they were inside the League, they would be completely at Lance's mercy. At least here, outside in the garden, they could make a run for it if necessary.

Red now felt slightly childish for the way he had argued with Green earlier that morning. After all of Red's talk about how he was ready to trust the Elite Four member, he was beginning to have second thoughts about Lance based on the mere sight of him. Red wondered miserably why him and Green had even bothered to show up.

Red and Green's furtive glances had not gone unnoticed by Lance, whose amber eyes glided over the younger trainers slowly, one after the other.

"Come now, boys. You two are soaked through – let's get inside, hm?"

Red chanced another fleeting look at Green, who wore an expression that seemed to say, 'It's up to you'. Nodding quickly, Red turned and looked Lance directly in the eyes. They had come this far – there was no point in turning back now. Red was tired of hiding.

"Alright." He replied finally, his voice determined.

"Very good." Lance smiled and Red got the impression that the dragon-user was patronizing them – finding their hesitation to be amusing.

Lance stepped up to the sliding-doors once again and bowed slightly, his arm unfurled dramatically in the direction of the entrance so that he looked rather like a trained butler, waiting to welcome guests graciously into his master's home. Green snorted at the showy gesture. The glass doors slid open and Red, wanting to prove that he was not intimidated by the red-haired man, immediately strode up to Lance, nodded curtly in thanks, and then proceeded into the grand reception area. Green followed close behind him, but did not so much as look at Lance as he too crossed the threshold into the lobby.

As Lance slid into the building after them and the doors slid shut once more, Red was instantly met with a sweeping sense of relief – the spacious reception area was warm, wonderfully decorated and had an air of coziness about it. He was reminded at once of the homey atmosphere that he often associated with the lounge of a Pokemon Center. Furnished with large, dark, leather armchairs along with matching side tables, carpeted with deep reds and accented with warm oranges and vibrant yellows, Red figured he could have comfortably curled up and gone to sleep in this room – the light, tinkling piano music being played through speakers on the ceiling only relaxed him further.

Red was in the middle of studying one of the room's three, massive bookshelves lined up against the far left wall, marveling at the many musty volumes and expensive looking marble busts of once great Pokemon trainers that lined its shelves, when he registered movement out of the corner of his eye.

Lance had crossed over to the great, mahogany reception desk that stretched half the length of the room, and reached down over the polished top to retrieve a small stack of papers. Red was sobered somewhat by the sight of the dragon-tamer. Although he was grateful for the warmth of the lobby, he reminded himself that it would be a smart idea not to let his guard down again. Wondering what Green was making of their situation, he turned and glanced at the other boy, who was looking around the room in what Red could only describe as disgust. He was obviously determined not to be suckered-in by the reception area's warmth and comfort.

"Okay, boys." Lance's voice cut through the dainty piano melody still flowing from the speaker system, "Sorry for the wait. Shall we?" He tucked the documents he was holding under his arm and motioned to the right side of the room, which branched out into a long, white, marble hallway, minimally decorated with expensive-looking jade and soapstone sculptures; the passage stood out in stark contrast to the luscious waiting room. Lance began to walk, and Green swept resolutely after him, wrinkling his nose in distaste. Red spared one last look at the inviting, leather armchairs before rushing after them.

As they progressed through the hall, the music playing in the lobby behind them began to fade, echoing off the walls in ghostly waves. Before long, the only sound in the corridor was that of three sets of footfalls. Red found the silence to be extremely unnerving, and wondered absently just how _long _the hallway was; it stretched on with no end in sight. After another five minutes or so of walking, the group came to a six-way junction – the brilliantly white hallway that they had been walking branched out in five separate directions. Each conjoining hall was unique, their walls made out of various high-quality woods, stones, precious gems and even things that looked like plants. Red was only able to get a good look at one, however, as Lance led them swiftly down the hall farthest to their right.

Red squinted as he entered the new hallway. The lighting had changed significantly as they had rounded the corner and, now that his eyes had adjusted, Red realized that it was because the new hallway's walls were made almost entirely of glass, save for the thin tendrils of ornately crafted, cerulean coloured wrought iron bars holding the large panes in place. From outside, rain pounded against the glass and, through the downpour, Red observed a multitude of overgrown trees, bushes and wildflowers; the passage was exactly parallel to the garden path they had entered through, although the goldenrod stones weren't visible through the greenery.

This corridor was not nearly as long as the previous one had been, and the group soon found themselves standing in front of a ragged, ancient-looking oaken door, which was horribly out of place in the clean and modernly designed passageway. Red's mind conjured up a snide image of Lance ripping the door free of some medieval castle and bringing it home as a souvenir.

Pulling a large, black key from his traveling cloak, Lance unlocked the heavy, wooden door, which swung back on its hinges with a loud and unnerving creak. The dragon-tamer was the first to step into the dark room that had been revealed, and the two younger trainers hesitantly followed suit, only to find that the space in which they were attempting to occupy was non-existent.

Red knocked into something, causing an object that felt like a stiff, wooden pole to jam painfully into his side and, beside him, Green swore under his breath as a great clatter resounded. Red felt something heavy crash down upon his foot, making him draw in a sharp, hissing breath – he presumed that Green had caused something to topple over and onto his abused appendage. While the darkness of the room did not allow Red to observe his surroundings, he knew for sure that the space Lance had led them into was very small, and _very _cramped. Green snarled in annoyance and Red could tell that whatever remained of the Gym Leader's patience was quickly dwindling. But before Green could reprimand Lance for his shoddy hosting skills, a soft crack was heard and a tiny flicker of light cut through the darkness.

"Sorry about the clutter." The dragon-master said offhandedly as he raised the matchstick he was holding to the wick of a candle, "I find it difficult to concentrate in a room with too many electrical appliances, so I like to do my work by candle-light – there are far fewer distractions that way."

Lance lifted the lit candle from its holder and dipped the burning end towards another candle's wick, repeating the process until the room was alight with a warm, orangey glow.

Taking a look around, Red confirmed that the room was _indeed_ both small and cramped. The 'wooden pole' lodged into his ribcage turned out to be the backrest of one of the room's three ornately crafted chairs; Red carefully maneuvered the seat back into position, and reached down to pick up the large and weighty book entitled "An Intensive Look into the Study of Pokemon Taxonomy" that had fallen on his foot. He held it out to Green who was grudgingly restacking the large pile of reference books he had knocked over. The taller boy snatched the musty object ill-temperedly from Red's hands, completed his pile, and pushed it against the side of a sizable desk taking up the majority of the room. Guessing that the space couldn't be much bigger than fifty square feet, he observed the massive bookshelves leaning against the far wall of the room, towering over the large desk before them, more rustic than the ones in the lobby and packed with many dusty volumes. The two sidewalls were lined with thin, dark wooden shelves that housed what looked like at least one hundred candles, of which a quarter were currently lit.

Lance shuffled into the narrow space between the desk and the bookshelves and lit two antique kerosene lamps on either end of the long table before he squeezed back to the stack of shelves on the left side of the room and, reaching past Green, restored the candle he had used to light the rest to its holder.

"Would either of you like some tea or coffee?" Lance asked pleasantly.

"No thank you…" Red murmured, and Green stuck his nose in the air defiantly.

"Good." Lance laughed, "I wouldn't have been able to get you it anyway – the League's closed on Sundays, you see; we're the only ones here. The receptionist that usually brings me my coffee is off." Lance smiled, "Not even the security guards bother to stick around when I'm here… there really isn't much of a point."

Red nodded politely, but Green didn't look amused.

"Why don't you boys take a seat." Lance said, clearing his throat and motioning to the two chairs situated very close together on the side of the desk nearest the door.

Red and Green struggled to move the chairs far enough away from the desk to slide into the seats without hitting the wall or the door behind them. Once they had settled, the pair scooched closer to the long table and watched as Lance took the papers he had brought with him from the reception area and, extracting a small, silver key from a drawer on the opposite side of the desk, turned to face a small filing-cabinet. Red had not noticed the cabinet earlier, and vaguely wondered why he had not seen the off-white, industrial unit before; positioned tightly in the left corner of the room, between the candle-lit shelves and one of the large bookcases, it stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the rest of the richly coloured wooden furniture.

"I'll be right with you," Lance said as he unlocked the second drawer from the top and fiddled through a number of dividers marking off different documents. "I just have to see to some police business first."

Green snorted loudly, and Red was surprised when Green spoke for the first time since entering the League.

"Police business?" Green leaned forward in his seat, a look of incredulity on his face, "Who the hell would trust _you _with police business?"

Red stared at Green, his mouth agape. Lance merely placed the papers into a slot in the drawer and calmly closed the cabinet. Sitting himself down in the cramped chair opposite the two trainers, he replaced the tiny key in the desk drawer before lifting his head to look at them.

"Why," Lance's amber eyes danced dangerously in the candle light, "the police of course."

Green twitched uncomfortably under Lance's piercing gaze, but his words did not falter.

"And they think they can trust you with that kind of information?" Green's tone was as mocking as it was skeptical.

"Clearly." Lance said with a smirk as he gestured to another stack of papers on the far right of the desk, all of which bore the insignia of the Kanto Police Force – the head of a regal Growlithe surrounded by a wreath of Ho-Oh's feathers.

Green crossed his arms and gave a frustrated humph.

"They send me transcripts of cases that they deem to be highly important, confidential or… out of their hands." Lance continued, looking thoughtful, "Nothing like petty crime or theft… things along the lines of natural disasters, anything resulting in mass casualties, witness protection – those kinds of things."

"Sorry, sir, but what do you mean by 'out of their hands'?" Red asked sheepishly. He was intrigued, but was still, as much as he hated to admit it, skittish around Lance.

Lance laughed openly, and Red felt an embarrassed flush creep up his neck.

"There's no need to call me 'sir', Mr. Champion." The dragon-tamer winked roguishly at him, and Red could feel his face begin to heat, "What I'm talking about when I say 'out of police hands', are incidents that require the attention of very skilled Pokemon trainers, such as myself and the two of you;" Lance inclined his head towards the two Pokedex holders, "There are some instances in which police action is rendered useless – take Team Rocket for example – If there's something a criminal organization with that kind of power wants, far be it from the police to stand in their way. The Elite Four and myself have pledged our allegiance to both the Kanto and Johto Police Forces in order to ensure the protection of those in the most critical of situations."

Both Lance's tone and expression were earnest, but Green rolled his eyes.

"Sure. That's why you tried to kill Red and enslave the entire Kanto region, right?"

"Green -!" Red lowered his voice in warning.

"No!" Green snapped at Red, his annoyance finally bubbling over, "None of this makes any sense – he tries to _murder _you, and then, years later, he just decides to invite you over for a casual Sunday-morning get together? No – just, no." Green held one hand out to stop Red from retaliating while his other grasped again at the bridge of his nose.

"What's wrong with you?" Red grabbed Green's outstretched hand roughly in his own and yanked the other boy towards himself, forcing Green to look him in the eye, "When we met Lorelei on the Sevii Islands, you never showed _her_ this kind of treatment! Why _him?_" Red jerked his head in Lance's direction, but didn't once take his eyes off of Green's.

"Because she proved herself!" Green roared as he ripped his hand free of Red's, "The Sevii Islands were her home, and she allied herself with us to protect them! What has _he _done to gain our trust?"

"I can assure you," Lance interjected from across the table, "that I mean neither of you any harm. Now, if you'll allow it, I'd like to move onto more pressing matters." Both his voice and gaze were steady as he studied them – daring either of them to speak. His sharp eyes penetrated them in such a way that they were transfixed, unable to argue any further.

Reluctantly, both boys repositioned themselves in their seats so that they were fully facing Lance and quietly waited for him to continue, Red's eyes gleaming with curiosity and Green's face screwed up in a distrustful scowl.

"I need you boys to do a job for me." The dragon-tamer said rather bluntly.

Forgetting their argument entirely, both Pokedex holders turned to face each other, stunned. Green was the first to direct his attention back to Lance and, when he spoke, his tone was laced with suspicion as well as confusion.

"What kind of job?" The Gym Leader asked cautiously.

Lance leaned forward across the surface of the large desk, so that his face was just a little over a foot away from Green's.

"A job that's 'out of police hands'." He whispered, each syllable leaving his mouth slowly and deliberately.

Green wrinkled his nose in distaste at the close proximity between himself and Lance, but did not recoil.

"Oh, really?" Green's voice dropped to the same hushed volume as Lance's, his lips forming a dangerous sneer.

"Yes." Lance smiled, once again displaying two jagged rows of teeth.

"Then answer me this," Green glared contemptuously at the dragon-master, "Why can't you and that group of rejects you call the Elite Four do this job yourselves? Are you afraid you're not _strong_ enough?"

Red thought he saw Lance's amber eyes flicker in annoyance, but the dragon-tamer soon regained an air of collectedness.

"The Elite and I cannot accept this job at the moment." Lance leaned back in his seat, reached under his desk and retrieved two items from one of its drawers.

"We've all been invited by the Elite Four of the Sinnoh region to attend the grand opening of Sinnoh's new underground – I'm sure you've heard of it." He brandished an envelope bearing a seal that Red had never seen before – he guessed that it belonged to the Sinnoh Pokemon League, "The others left for Sinnoh last night, and I will be leaving shortly after we've finished our business here." Lance explained as he played absently with a letter opener he had also pulled from the drawer, it's beautiful golden blade glistening in the candlelight.

"Never the less," Lance's tone grew serious, "this is an issue that needs attending to, and I couldn't think of anyone more competent than Professor Oak's Pokedex holders."

"What do you need us to do?" Red asked quite suddenly, surprising both Green and Lance.

The dragon-master laughed as he returned both the invitation and the paper knife to their drawer.

"I thought you'd never ask." Lance flashed Red another pointed smile, but this time Red wasn't bothered. He was beginning to think that this was just Lance's way of being friendly – that the Elite Four Leader might not wish them ill after all.

"You two are of course aware of the Cinnabar Island Massacre." It was a statement, not a question.

Everyone knew about the Cinnabar Massacre. It was common knowledge. Four years ago, an underwater volcano located on the East coast of the island, that had previously been labeled inactive, had erupted, destroying the majority of the island and covering much of the Kanto region in dark, ashen clouds for months. Hundreds of island dwellers were killed during the incident and thousands more escaped with serious injuries; some residents had inhaled so much smoke and soot that their lungs had been permanently damaged. Red had been visiting his hometown of Pallet when the eruption occurred, and witnessed first-hand the choking, black clouds that had drifted up the coast to engulf the rural town. The horrible tragedy had strained the entire Kanto region.

Green threw Lance a curious look and seemed interested despite his attempts to preserve a cold indifference to what the dragon-tamer had to say.

"Yeah," Red mumbled, "a good friend of mine lost his home, his gym and his lab to the eruption." He frowned slightly, thinking of Blaine who was now, unbeknownst to most, residing in one of the Seafoam Islands.

"Yes," Lance nodded grimly, "It's been a difficult trial for many."

"I don't see what this has to do with us." Green interrupted impatiently.

"Right," Lance's mouth curved into a small frown, and Red could tell that Lance was becoming as tired of Green as Green already was of Lance, "getting back on track… You two will remember the catastrophic environmental damage done by the resulting smog, then?"

The two younger trainers nodded.

"Well, because of the devastation, research crews wishing to investigate the cause of the sudden eruption were forced to wait nearly a year before it was deemed safe to travel to Cinnabar – even with the most advanced equipment and protective suits, the pollution and toxins were just too much."

Lance paused for a moment before continuing.

"Recently, however, crews have begun to return to Cinnabar Island in order to conduct new studies; all of the investigations done a few years ago were inconclusive – no one was able to figure out why a seemingly dormant volcano went off without any warning."

"But that's good, isn't it?" Red asked, confused, "I mean, if we find out what caused the eruption, we'll be able to tell when another one's about to happen, right?"

"Yes, yes," Lance said hurriedly, "finding the cause of the eruption will be enormously beneficial in predicting future eruptions - that's not the problem."

"Well, then what _is_?" Green snapped, irritated.

Lance narrowed his eyes ever so slightly at Green before responding, his voice chillingly cold.

"The problem is that none of the research crews have returned from Cinnabar."

Red gritted his teeth.

"Groups were dispatched a month ago and, since then, no one has so much as heard from those researchers – their radio signals are jammed with some weird kind of static."

"And this is 'out of police hands'?" Green asked in a bored voice, "Isn't this about the time when the police and some worried civilians form a rescue party? It's as simple as that, reall—"

"It is _not _that simple." Lance cut in angrily, "Search parties were organized two weeks ago, and all those involved, civilians _and_ police officers, have gone missing as well."

It was Green's turn to narrow his eyes.

"What, exactly, is happening on Cinnabar?"

"Currently…" Lance sounded almost dejected, "we have no idea." He glanced down at his desk and then purposefully back up to face the two Pokedex Holders. "What I need you two boys to do, is to travel to Cinnabar on a rescue mission."

Green stared at Lance in disbelief.

"You're suggesting that we do this _job _of yours with virtually no information, no plan and no backup? Do you really expect us to succeed?" Green's eyebrow arched disbelievingly.

Red was worried, as well as curious, about the scientists, civilians and officers that had gone missing, but he knew Green was right – as powerful as Pokedex Holders were, Red and Green knew next to nothing about the situation, and it didn't seem as though Lance had much information himself. If Cinnabar Island was dangerous enough to keep any visitors from leaving, a rescue mission could prove to be suicidal.

"Or…" Green said quickly, pulling Red from his thoughts, "do you not _want_ us to succeed?" His voice was dangerous. "Do you want our names added to the casualty list – is that it?" Green spat furiously.

"I'm not going to tell you again," Lance spoke determinedly, a cold fury detectable in his voice, "I do not mean the two of you any harm." He fixed his harsh, amber eyes on Green. "If I wanted you dead, there are much simpler ways I could go about the task."

Green, for once, was silenced.

"I have given you all of the information on the subject that I possess." Lance continued, "As for a plan, I've heard that you two are very resourceful when it comes to tricky situations – don't think I chose you both for this mission without doing some research in advance; I know all about your assist in the victory over the Mask of Ice, your help in freeing the Battle Frontier from Archie of Team Aqua, and about your battle with Deoxys, the DNA Pokemon."

Red smiled weakly and scratched at the back of his capped head in modest embarrassment. Lance stared thoughtfully at them for a moment before pressing on.

"And allies… I thought, seeing as you two have seniority over your fellow Pokedex Holders, that you'd have many competent trainers to choose from." Lance smiled slightly, "I tried to get a hold of your friend, Blue, but it seems that she's unavailable at the moment… it's a shame, really, I would have liked it if she'd attended this meeting as well."

"Blue likes to move around a lot." Red said affirmatively.

Lance smirked knowingly, and a pregnant pause enveloped the room before the dragon-tamer spoke again, his tone almost encouraging.

"I've seen what you boys can do first hand;" Red shifted uncomfortably in his seat as he realized that Lance was referring to their battle six years previous, "you're talented, driven and resourceful. I can't think of any two trainers outside of the Elite Four that I'd place more trust in than you two."

Stunned by Lance's praise, neither boy so much as moved. The dragon-tamer leaned in towards them from the other side of the table and glanced between the two younger trainers, his usually harsh, amber eyes oddly soft in the dim candlelight.

"Can I trust the two of you to do this?" Lance's voice was uncharacteristically imploring, "If not for me, then for the people whose lives may depend on you?"

Slowly turning his head to look at Green, Red watched the other boy consider Lance for a moment before closing his eyes and letting an exhausted sigh escape his lips. Hesitantly, Green returned Red's gaze and, for the second time that morning, sent the Champion a furtive glance that seemed to say 'you decide'. Smiling weakly, Red nodded at his friend.

Dropping his gaze to his still rain-soaked lap, Red examined his fingers, his palms and, finally, his wrists, feeling the fleeting pain of his old injuries resurface. For one brief moment, he allowed the icy chill to envelop him and take complete control of his mind and body – letting the pain push him, drive him forwards rather than shut him down - before he abruptly clamped his fists shut.

Lifting his head purposefully, Red's crimson eyes locked onto Lance's glowing amber ones; he had made his decision.

"When do we leave?"

OoO

"Do you have any Hyper Potions?" Red called over his shoulder as he rummaged through his worn, untidily filled backpack.

Green, who was leaning over the coffee table in the center of the apartment's cramped living room, glanced up from the sheet of paper he had been writing on.

"There should be about five in the drawer behind you." The Viridian Leader inclined his head towards one of the kitchen cabinets near the island chair in which Red was perched.

"There are six." Red said inspecting the contents of the drawer, "Wanna split them?"

"Sure," Green didn't look up as he continued to scrawl across the paper in large letters, "just throw three in my bag." His tone was non-committal, evasive.

Red frowned slightly as he shoved his share of the Hyper Potions into his already overflowing pack.

"Green, if you don't want to do this…" Red started, but stopped when Green lifted his eyes from the paper to glare at Red.

"You're not doing this alone, Red. Either we go together, or no one goes at all."

"I know you don't want to go –"

"It doesn't _matter_ what I want, idiot. You made the choice, and there's no way that this is a one-man job." Green tapped the end of the pen he was using to write with against the surface of the table absently.

Red lowered his eyes to the floor; he was starting to feel guilty for being so quick to sign both Green and himself up for something that the other trainer quite obviously was not keen to do.

"Oh, don't look so pathetic." Green said in what Red assumed was supposed to be a biting tone – it came out in a slightly endearing way, "Red, what you have to understand is that I want to help these people, assuming they exist, as much as you do," He sighed and placed the pen down on the table, "I just don't trust that bastard."

"I think he's telling the truth." Red said quietly fiddling with the zipper on his backpack.

Green sighed exasperatedly and reclaimed his pen.

"I'm just saying that this could very easily be a trap – there may not even _be _people on Cinnabar that need rescuing. We have to be prepared for that possibility."

"But if there are people, if they really are in trouble, we have to at least try."

Green nodded grimly.

"Yes, we have to at least try." He turned away from Red and continued writing.

OoO

"Johto?" Green snarled disbelievingly as he held up a small, glossy postcard.

"Johto." Red stated blankly, "No wonder Lance couldn't find her."

Both trainers stood at the top of the fire-escape steps underneath the loft apartment's narrow overhang, rain pounding against the sheet-metal above them. They had just finished their final preparations and were about to take off when Green had noticed the tiny card slipped halfway underneath the apartment door.

On the front of the card, a trio stood beside the large, iron entrance-way of the famous Goldenrod city radio tower. Blue beamed happily up at them from the photo, her arms slung amiably around the shoulders of two shorter trainers that Red recognized immediately as Silver and Yellow. Blue's easy smile stood out from both of the younger Pokedex Holder's embarrassed flushes.

Flipping the postcard over, Green scanned the written message quickly before giving a small groan and rolling his eyes.

"What does it say?" Red asked quizzically, taking the card from Green's outstretched hand.

"'Dearest Green,'" Red read allowed, quirking his eyebrow at Blue's choice of greeting and paused to watch Green grimace before continuing.

"'Yellow and I are currently touring the beautiful region of Johto. It's so nice to be able to relax and do some sight seeing – it's a nice change from battling, and they have the _cutest_ little stores here! The antique jewelry market is incredible! And guess what? Last week, we ran into Silver! Can you believe it? He's even decided to take some time off from training and join us-'"

"'Join'? Yeah, right. I'll bet you anything she dragged him off, bound and gagged for good measure." Green cut in snidely.

"'We're heading off to Ecruteak city tomorrow, but we'll be returning to Kanto for the Pewter city Museum's Grand Re-opening – the three of us won tickets by participating in the Goldenrod radio tower's Lucky Number Show! It's all expenses paid! You should come meet us there, Green! It's been far too long, darling.'" Red sniggered at the embarrassed blush that had found its way across Green's cheeks.

Green scowled, evidently not amused.

"'I hope everything's well on your end,'" Red gasped out in between laughs, "'Love, Blue.'"

"Ugh." Green grumbled.

"Wait, there's more." Red said, trying to regain his composure, "'P.S. I am very hurt that you haven't responded to any of my letters! Write me back, okay?'"

"Not likely." Green said petulantly.

"'P.P.S. -'" Red resumed.

"There's more?" Green asked feebly.

"'Tell Red to write me too. I've been sending messages to his home in Pallet, but I'm not sure if he's been back there in a while.'" Red wondered just how many letters would be waiting for him upon his return to Pallet.

"'P.P.P.S.'" Blue's writing was beginning to bunch at the bottom of the card as if she had been struggling to make her message fit, "'Call Silver's Pokegear if you want to get in touch.'"

"'P.P.P.P.S.'" Blue's writing was now so tiny that Red was having a hard time deciphering it. "'Yellow and Silver say 'hi'.'"

When Red had finished reading, Green waited for a few moments, as if anticipating even more text to be written on the impossibly small card. When Red made to hand the card back to Green, a look of relief swept over the Viridian Gym Leader's face.

"So, they're going to the Museum Re-opening, huh?" Green said, finally, choosing to ignore the numerous sappy segments of Blue's letter and focus on something that both boys deemed to be much less awkward, "I wonder who's _not_ going."

Red remembered Lance's instructions from earlier that morning; they were to reach him at his hotel in Sinnoh by phone if they ran into any problems and, no matter if the mission had been successfully completed or not, they were to meet Lance and the other Elite at the Pewter Museum Re-opening (where the Elite would be present on their first day back in Kanto) for a status report.

Red unconsciously patted the back pocket of his – now dry – jeans, where the two admission tickets Lance had given him were folded haphazardly.

"Let's get going, then." Green said resignedly as he tossed Blue's postcard onto a small table in the apartment entrance before shutting and locking the door – Red could have sworn he heard Green mumble something along the lines of 'Pesky Girl' as he did so, "Copper-top wants us on the island before evening." He pulled the bulky radio transceiver that Lance had given them from his jacket pocket and began to descend the stairs into the rain.

"We'll see if we can pick up any sign of a distress signal as we go." Green said as both trainers touched down onto the soggy front lawn of the Viridian Gym, "I've just got one last thing I need to do."

Green knelt down next to the Gym's glass doors and extracted a roll of tape and the piece of paper he had been writing on previously from his traveling bag. Sticking the sheet carefully to the door, Green turned to Red and nodded.

"I know you hate closing the Gym." Red said sympathetically, gazing at Green's makeshift sign, which read: 'CLOSED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE. Sorry for the inconvenience.'

"Well," Green sighed as he hoisted his bag back over his shoulder, "With any luck, it won't be closed for very long. Besides, my two top Gym apprentices have spare keys—they know they're welcome to open the doors to the rest of the Gym trainers in my absence."

"Yeah." Red smiled reassuringly.

Green was never one to get nervous or over-emotional, but Red suspected that the Viridian Leader liked leaving his Gym about as much as Red liked being punched in the stomach. A quick glimmer of anxiety in Green's emerald eyes proved Red's theory right.

"So," Green cleared his throat pointedly, as if he wanted to avoid an uncomfortable and personal conversation, "Are you ready?"

Red nodded hastily – he could feel the stony gaze of the two Rhydon statues situated on either side of the Gym's doors boring into the back of his skull, making him feel nauseous; he was thrilled to be leaving them behind.

At Red's affirmation, Green took a Pokeball from his belt and released his most trusted Pokemon.

Charizard appeared on the sodden ground next to them with a roar and a shake of its great head; the large dual-type did not appear to be happy about the rain.

"Charizard, we need to fly somewhere. Do you think you can handle the rain?" Green placed a hand on the dragon's back.

Despite Charizard's obvious discomfort, it nodded loyally and dipped its long neck, allowing Green to climb between its wings, its tail-fire burning brighter than ever in an attempt to compensate for the rain. Green positioned himself and his large pack before turning to Red.

"Climb on." Green instructed.

"B-but," Red stammered, "Charizard can't handle two people's weight! And we've got too many supplies-"

"Charizard can handle it." Green stated confidently, patting his Pokemon in reassurance, "Besides, Aero hasn't been able to fly since its encounter with Deoxys, right?"

Red's hand strayed unconsciously to his belt, stroking his Aerodactyl's Pokeball gently. A fresh wave of guilt washed over him as he remembered how much his Pokemon had sacrificed for him, and the rain pounding down upon him felt just a little colder.

"Yeah, okay." He said finally, his voice thick as he sauntered over to the large, flying Pokemon.

Red placed a hand on Charizard's flank and was about to pull himself onto the dual-type's back when Red felt a warm hand close softly around his wrist. Looking up in surprise, Red saw Green fix him with a slightly embarrassed look of concern.

"Red, I'm sorry." Greens tone was milder and kinder than Red was used to, "You know it's not your fault."

Red felt a hot wall of pressure build up behind his eyes, as if he were about to cry, but no tears came – instead, rainwater streamed down his upturned face as a kind of substitute.

"Your Pokemon would do anything to protect you, Red. And feeling guilty about what they did for you only belittles their efforts."

Red swallowed a large lump in his throat and shuttered, not from the cold, but from the torrent of emotions coursing through him. After Red's first fight with Deoxys, Green had snapped him out of his depressed and discouraged state in order for him to focus on protecting the Sevii islands. But now, nearly two years after their conflict with the DNA Pokemon, there was no goal to work towards, no activity to divert his mind from the sting of remorse – the knowledge that he had pushed his partners past their limits, and that he'd have to live with his decisions for the rest of his life enveloped and smothered him.

"Hey." Green's grip on Red's wrist tightened encouragingly, "We don't have time to feel sorry for ourselves, remember?" Green flashed Red a genuine smile, "There are people that need our help."

Red stared blankly up at Green for a moment before weakly returning a grin.

"Okay." Red murmured, feeling immensely grateful towards Green – the taller trainer was overly sarcastic and stoic at times, but Green always seemed to know when Red needed either a kind word or a punch in the face; he was a good friend.

"Here." Red felt Green's hand slip from his wrist and slide into his own open palm instead. The feeling of Green's skin, which was significantly warmer than his own, comforted Red as the other boy helped him onto Charizard's broad back.

"Ready to go?" Green turned to face red from his position near Charizard's neck.

Red nodded.

"Alright then, hold on tight." Green motioned for Red to grab a hold of him for stability, and Red wrapped his arms securely around Green's already rain-soaked torso.

"Charizard!" Green called, and the fire-dragon took off from the ground without a moment's hesitation.

At first, it seemed as though Red had been right. Charizard struggled to lift both boys and their heavily laden packs into the air, and Red squeezed Green much harder than was necessary out of anxiety. But as Charizard climbed ever higher, icy rain pelting its thick hide, the creature's laborious breathing began to even out and its wings flapped in a steady repetition. Red was in the middle of wondering how such an amazing turn around in Charizard's abilities was possible, when he realized that the dual-type was using the lashing wind to its advantage by riding the slicing currents.

"Good job!" Green yelled, patting Charizard's neck before he turned to Red, "I told you he could do it!"

The wind was so strong that Red could barely make out what his companion was saying. Instead of replying, because he doubted his words would reach Green through the storm, Red let out an elated laugh – the joy of flying helping to ease the guilt he felt for his own damaged Aerodactyl.

OoO

The afternoon sun was definitely a welcomed sight after weeks of oppressive rain; the beautiful golden light accented everything it touched, and Red watched in silent awe as the glistening blue waves of Route 21 rolled beneath them.

Both boys were shocked to say the least when the dark, suffocating clouds and icy rain began to dissipate just forty-five minutes into their flight. Expecting the ocean route to be even worse weather-wise, the pair was pleasantly surprised when the storm vanished just a few kilometers past the Pallet town coast. Now, on the open water, the only reminders that it had ever been raining were Red and Green's soggy clothes.

"Now that we're clear of the rain, I'm gonna try to get a signal." Green told Red from over his shoulder as he brandished Lance's bulky radio-transceiver.

Charizard was gliding through the air easily now, and the still air around them barely made a sound as it was sliced by the dragon's expansive wings.

There was a loud screech followed by an unpleasant crackling sound as Green switched the transceiver on. As the Viridian Leader hastened to change the frequency, the crackling became less obnoxious but, no matter how many channels Green tried, the only intelligible signal was that of the Kanto Broadcasting Corporation's DJ Lily, playing a relaxing mix of jazz tunes.

Giving up on locating a distress signal for the time being, Green dejectedly placed the transceiver back into his jacket pocket, and the two trainers soared towards their destination in silence, save for the soft music still emanating from the borrowed radio.

After another ten minutes or so of flying, the outline of Cinnabar Island began to rise up from the water, painted black against the bright horizon.

"We're almost there." Red murmured.

"Yeah." Green replied expressionlessly.

As Charizard ferried the two boys towards the ruins of Cinnabar, Red noticed that he was becoming increasingly nervous. Before leaving, both trainers had been so preoccupied with either mentally preparing themselves for any traps Lance may have set for them or trying to piece together a rescue plan that, Red now realized, they had neglected to consider a rather obvious question: what if they were too late? If there were indeed people that needed rescuing, would the two trainers be on time to save them?

At the thought, Red's heart began to pound against his ribs and his mind began to conjure horrific images of mangled bodies, strewn about the wreckage of the Cinnabar Massacre.

The island was coming into focus now, and Red was able to make out the silhouettes of old, toppled buildings, his heart hammering in uneasy anticipation.

"Green," Red blurted, needing to express his concern, "what if-"

Red was interrupted as, without warning, a blast of earsplitting static emitted from Green's jacket pocket, completely overpowering DJ Lily's easy listening playlist.

Charizard roared in surprise, and both trainers tried to cover their ears while still maintaining a firm grip on the now frantic Pokemon.

"What _is _that?" Red yelled through gritted teeth.

"How the hell should _I _know? Charizard – calm down!" Green through an arm around the startled dragon's neck as he desperately tried to change the radio's frequency with his free hand.

Despite Green's efforts, the transceiver continued to produce a loud, frenzied whirring that made Red's head throb and his vision blur. Red felt as if he were about to be sick when, from the midst of the static, he heard a voice.

"Green!" Red called loudly over the deafening noise, "Green – I think I heard someone!"

"What?" Green was clutching the radio tightly to his chest as he tried to steer Charizard in the right direction.

"Try to adjust the frequency just a bit more! I _hear_ someone!"

Without replying, Green hurriedly fiddled, one handed, with the radio's tuning knob until the static had subsided and a dull buzz remained in its place.

"I don't hear anything." Green said, trying to sound annoyed, although obviously relieved that the static had been silenced; Charizard had begun to calm down as well.

"No, I'm sure I heard something – a voice."

"Red, there's nothing but dead air-"

Green stopped dead when the voice of a young girl came, clear as a bell, through the radio's speaker.

"Mommy? Where's mommy?"

"Do you hear that?" Red asked, delighted, "There's someone there! Someone's alive!"

Green was still for a moment, his mouth agape in disbelief before he flashed Red a grin, and hurriedly pressed the talk-button on the transceiver.

"Hello, is there anyone there?"

"Mommy? I want my mommy!" The girl's voice came again, crackling through the speaker system.

"Hello? Please, can you tell me if you're stranded on Cinnabar Island? Do you need rescue assistance?" Green bellowed into the mouthpiece.

"My mother, where is she?" The girl's voice was coming in sobs now.

"Don't worry, we're coming to get you! We'll help you find her, just hold on!" Green turned away from the radio to address Red, "Get the medical supplies from my bag!"

"Right." Red leaned forward and reached inside the traveling bag on Green's back, pulling out the rescue supplies they had brought.

"Mommy…" The girl's voice continued to drift through the transceiver.

"We're coming! Red, hold on tight!" Green yelled, before commanding Charizard to accelerate.

A sudden rush of wind pounded against Red's body, and it was everything he could do to keep a hold of Green and the medical supplies. They were now directly over top of the ruined island city, and Red could see how extensive the volcano's damage had been. Buildings stood half erect, burnt cinders and broken glass littered the streets, and a solid mass of rock had completely engulfed one side of the island, its center almost exactly where Blaine's Gym had been. The only building that seemed to have escaped most of the damage was the abandoned research facility on the West side of town, nicknamed 'The Pokemon Mansion' for its sheer size.

"Charizard, descend!" Green called, and the dual-type Pokemon obeyed immediately, spiraling tightly towards the blackened ground below.

Glancing around, Red managed to make out a small ship docked on the East coast of the island, the word 'Arbiter' painted across its side in large, blue letters; Red wondered if it could have been the ship that had transported the police and rescue workers to the island.

Charizard touched down hard, jarring Red from his thoughts. Disoriented and confused, Red could feel Green grab him by the arm and help him off the Pokemon's back.

"You alright?" Green asked, panting.

"Yeah, you?" Red inquired, also out of breath.

Green nodded before turning to Charizard and returning the creature to its ball with a quick, 'good job'.

Though both boys were still rattled from their rough landing, they wasted no time in scoping out the area. Red re-arranged the medical supply kit in his arms as he walked through the rubble, bits of broken glass crunching beneath his sneakers as he went. Charizard had landed on the Southern half of the island, and Red thought he recognized the broken foundations of what had once been a laboratory used for restoring Pokemon from ancient fossils, but there was not a living soul in sight.

"Hello?" Red called, cupping his hands to his mouth in order to amplify his voice, "Is anybody here?" There was no response, save for the creaking of old sheet metal.

"Hey, we're here to help! Is anyone hurt? We've brought bandages!" Red tried again.

"Here," Green said, coming to stand beside Red, "I'll try the radio again."

As soon as Green had clicked the device on, the voice of the little girl from earlier came blaring through the speaker.

"Mommy! Mommy! Where's mommy?"

Without a moment's hesitation, Green put the transceiver to his mouth and pressed the talk-button.

"We're here! Please, can you tell us where you are?"

Red and Green waited anxiously for a response.

"Mommy! Where are you? Please come and get me, mommy!"

"We'll help you find her if you tell us where you are!" Green yelled, a slight hint of irritation detectable in his voice.

"Mommy!"

"Look, kid, we want to help, but you have to tell us where-"

" Green, over there!" Red shook Green's shoulder violently and pointed off in the direction of the Pokemon Mansion.

"Is that…?" Green trailed off as he too looked up from the transceiver.

"Yeah, it is!" Red exclaimed happily.

From in between the enormous, rocky mound on the East coast of town and a heap of scrap-metal, a group of people were making their way towards them – what looked like thirty people, men, women and children. They all seemed to be considerably dirty, but alive and well nevertheless.

"Hey! Over here!" Red cried ecstatically, "We're here to help!"

Green and Red shared a small, triumphant smile before rushing towards the scraggly group, kicking up soot and glass as they ran. Finally, coming to stand in front of the survivors, Red let out a relieved laugh.

"We're so glad you guys are alright!" Red said, repositioning his cap which had started to slide off his head, "We thought you might be…"

Red had to stifle a scream.

As he looked into the faces of the survivors, his blood ran ice-cold, and every muscle in his body locked into place – he couldn't move; thirty sets of white, pupil-less eyes were fixed on both him and Green.

Red's breath caught in his throat as he quickly backed away from the group; to his right, he could hear Green shudder. The mob began to advance slowly, taking small stumbling steps. Their ashen skin stood out in sickening contrast to the blackened soot around them.

Red unconsciously reached out and gripped Green's shoulder tightly, needing to steady himself – his muscles still tensing uncomfortably, making it difficult to stay standing.

"Who – who are you?" Red asked, unable to raise his voice above a whisper.

A woman in a long, dirty and ripped lab-coat near the front of the group stumbled forward a few more steps, causing Red and Green to back up cautiously. Her blank eyes revoltingly unfocused, she opened her mouth and, without moving her lips, a voice resounded from deep within her throat. It was not the voice of a woman. Instead, it was the voice of someone much younger – the voice of a little girl.

"Mommy? Where's my mommy?"

_**To Be Continued…**_


End file.
